


Crimson and Snow

by toastkat



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Bloodletting, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Drowning, Fade to Black, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Sibling Incest, smothering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:57:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastkat/pseuds/toastkat
Summary: A mysterious letter sends Dante on a quest to find his brother once more and rescue him from the darkness in his heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FirstSonVergil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirstSonVergil/gifts).



The letter arrived with the bills. Dante almost threw it away, but the parchment was so distinct that even the feeling of it against his fingers drew his attention. As the stack of white envelopes fell from his hand and into the trash, Dante studied the stiff yellow paper. There wasn’t a return address. Just Dante’s name, scrawled in a swirling cursive across the flat face of the folded paper. Something prickled on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He  _ knew _ that handwriting from somewhere, but it’d been so long since he’d seen it that he doubted his eyes and his memory. The seal of sparkling purple wax on the back, however, only confirmed his suspicion. 

It took everything in him to not run outside to the letterbox, to chase after the spectre of his father and demand answers as to how the old fiend was sending messages from the grave. He knew without having to go outside that his father wouldn’t be standing there, waiting to be caught. Whatever Sparda had wanted to say would be written in that little note.

With shaking fingers, Dante broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. His heart sank. He’d been expecting paragraphs upon paragraphs of Sparda’s refined handwriting, for the paper to be heavy with ancient ink. There wasn’t an explanation of how Sparda had sent the letter, or even an apology for being gone for most of Dante’s life. Instead, there were only three words and a smaller folded piece of wax paper.

_ “Vergil is alive.” _

His legs failed him. Dante sank to his knees, reaching out blindly to catch himself on his desk. He caught the edge of his desk with his hand, but it wasn’t enough to hold him up as he collapsed with shaking hands and even shakier breath. His vision blurred as burning tears filled his eyes. He bowed his head and let the tears roll down his cheeks and jaw, dripping off his chin to puddle on the floor. 

How many times had he killed and buried Vergil himself? How many times had he been forced to cross blades with his brother? How many times had he  _ mourned _ the other half of his soul? And now to know that Vergil was still alive after all...Dante couldn’t decide if his tears were of joy, of relief, or of the sorrowful knowledge that they’d only be separated by death once more. He hated his father for leaving behind this knowledge that only tore Dante apart from the inside. He hated his brother for not contacting him sooner, and for constantly being the wedge that drove them apart. And he hated himself for not being stronger, for not being able to catch Vergil from falling so long ago.

_ Not again _ , he thought in a weak whisper caught in the maelstrom of emotions. The hunter in red clutched the letter to his chest, closing his eyes tightly.  _ I have to find him and bring him home. Before I lose him again. _

The little folded piece of wax paper fell onto his lap, forgotten in his hope and despair. Dante set aside the letter to pick up the bundle, opening it to let the pressed flower within breathe. He brought it to his face to smell, closing his eyes. 

It smelled like Vergil.

It smelled like his fancy perfume he wore when they were mercenaries together, when they were two stupid teenagers that fought back-to-back against the world. It was the same perfume that wafted from that trademark blue coat, fighting against the stink of blood as they stood facing one another at the river between worlds. It was the same perfume that had been on the cloak of the horned demon he faced at that damned island. He’d know that smell anywhere, but damn if he could actually put a name to it. It was something Japanese, and maybe that would be enough of a clue to get him started. 

Filled with sudden motivation, Dante pulled himself up off the floor. He planted a foot on his desk and pointed at Lady as she came in, startling her so much that she almost dropped the bag of groceries she was bringing in. 

“Gas up Karnival!” Dante exclaimed to her. “I’m going to Japan!”

She stared at him blankly. “You want me to do  _ what _ ?”

He teetered a bit on his leg. “You heard me! I need to get to Japan quick! Vergil’s there, and -”

“And why should  _ I _ be the one to gas up your junky old biplane? Does that thing even  _ work _ anymore?”

“It sure as shit works more than you do!”

“Oh you did  _ not _ just say that to my face, Dante Sparda.”

Dante squeaked as she lunged after him, dropping the groceries in favor of reaching for her bowie knife. The only thing that stopped her from getting to him was Trish, who crept up behind the brunette and hooked her arms through Lady’s. The blonde bombshell lifted the other hunter easily, allowing Lady to kick at the air to free herself as Dante hid behind his desk chair.

“How about you  _ don’t _ take the biplane?” Trish suggested, turning so that Lady was facing away from him. The other woman hung sulking in the demon’s arms. “Why don’t you just buy a plane ticket like a normal person?”

“First of all, that requires having the money to purchase a thousand dollar ticket. Secondly, I highly doubt an international flight will let me bring my gear. And third…” Dante ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it in annoyance. “I don’t know  _ exactly _ where Verge is…” Trish started to let Lady down. “Yet! I don’t know where he is  _ yet _ !”

“What are you going to do when you find him?” Lady asked, crossing her arms as Trish gently set her down but didn’t quite let go. “You can’t just bring him back. I still have a grudge against him for that Temen-ni-Gru bullshit, and he’s probably got a grudge on Trish for all the shit that went down on Mullet Island.”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Dante admitted with a sigh. “I just...I feel like this is it. This is the last time I’ll get to see him again. Not as my enemy, not as another demon that has to be hunted down and exterminated, but as my brother. And if I don’t go to him, if I don’t find him before some other Mundus worshipping asshat does, then I’ll never get to see him again. I’ll never get to  _ say  _ he’s my brother. Because he’ll be corrupted or brainwashed or worse. He won’t be himself because...” His eyes fell to that wet spot on the floor. “Because he won’t be  _ my _ Vergil.” Dante shook his head. “Listen, I don’t expect you two to back me up on this. And I sure as shit don’t expect you to understand. All I want...all I need is for you two to let me just  _ do _ this, okay? If I fall flat on my face, just let me fall flat on my face, alright? And don’t fucking judge me on it…”

The girls exchanged a glance, both of them smiling knowingly. 

“Dante, we’re not judging you,” Trish said, her voice revealing how genuine her words were. 

“And we’re not going to let you run off on your own and make another dumb decision.”

“When was the last time I did that?”

Lady pointed at a sign hanging from the bathroom door. The number had been changed on it to reflect that it had indeed been zero days since the last time Dante made a bad decision.

“Huh…” Apparently pineapple on pizza qualified as a bad decision. No sticker for him today on the calendar. Dante almost pouted. He shook his head and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I’m not going off on some suicide mission! I’ll  _ be _ back! And either I’ll be bringing Verge along willingly or dragging him by his ear, kicking and screaming.”

“Oh, I’d  _ pay _ to see that,” Lady muttered under her breath.

“Well, it looks to me like we will,” Trish replied with a smirk. 

“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already moved in to your place.”

“Somehow I doubt they’ll need the second bedroom.”

“Can you two  _ not _ ?” Dante sighed, smiling to himself despite any reservations he may have. Still, he was glad to have the girls semi-on board with this new change in their lives. Then again, what sort of devil hunters would they be if they weren’t ready and willing to think on their feet? If they weren’t able to adapt to whatever wild and new situation life threw their way? But as much as he loved and appreciated Trish and Lady, he needed his old partner back.

“What’s the plan, red?” Trish asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Dante circled his chair to sit at his desk. Letter and flower were placed delicately on the surface, as if he were worried both or either would catch aflame at a moment’s notice. “Alright, so I know he’s in Japan,” the hunter in crimson started. “He trained there after Mom died and before we became mercenaries together. I just need to figure out  _ where _ .”

“And then what?”

He shrugged, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the world. “And then I go there. Alone. Seeing either of you might make him too pissed to see me.”

“Like your face alone won’t do that?”

Dante flipped off Lady without looking up at her. “Once I find him, I’ll...I don’t know. I’ll talk to him, beg, just  _ whatever _ .” He ran his hands through his hair, mumbling under his breath. “Just five minutes...That’s all I want. Five minutes to tell him how much I love him and miss him...After that…” He groaned, flopping onto his desk. 

“After that, you’re going to be a sulking mess,” Trish grumbled darkly. “Dante, I know I said I was with you on this, but maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Forgive the pun, but let me play devil’s advocate for a moment. Maybe he  _ doesn’t _ want to see you. If he’s alive,  _ really _ alive, he would have contacted you if he wanted to see you. Besides, how can you trust  _ this _ ?” She lifted the letter with a hand and waved it in his face. “Yeah, it has Sparda’s handwriting and seal, but is it  _ really _ his handwriting? And anyone could have gotten his seal or had a forgery made. How can you trust this isn’t just some red herring or a wild goose for you to chase?”

“Because I  _ feel _ it, Trish. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. Here.” He sat up to put his hand on his chest. Dante pressed harder, feeling his heartbeat against his own palm. Somewhere, be it in Japan or somewhere else in the world, Vergil’s heart was beating too. “I’ll find him, Trish. I’ll find him, and I’ll bring him home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Haggling with the girls over jobs and scheduling had been the easy part. Lady still claimed he owed her money, somehow, and letting her take more work was the best way to cut out the middleman. Literally. And Trish, being Trish, found more enjoyment in the thrill of the hunt than of the kill, so talking her into work wasn’t difficult either. The two were living together, they might as well work together. Dante had known they were partners in more way than one since the day they stole his wallet and went shopping on his cards. He was honestly more mad about the bills than he was about their affair.

It was the flight to Japan itself that would be  _ the bitch _ . On such short notice, the cost of the tickets were more than just expensive, they were lucrative. And on top of it being so close to Christmas, Dante was looking at a ramen diet for the next four years to cover the cost of the airline tickets. The best they could do was a twenty-six hour flight, including a five hour layover in Taiwan.

“Oh, and your plane takes off at midnight,” Trish informed him as she skimmed the details from the website.

“And you’re  _ sure _ I can’t take the biplane?”

She smiled to herself. “Window or aisle?”

“Window. Please. And if you can get me something close to the back, that’d be nice.”

“Lucky you. Very last row, next to the window is still open.”

“Well  _ that’s _ a small victory.”

Trish glanced at him on the couch. “Dante…”

“Yes, for the billionth time, I’m sure I want to do this.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Alright then…”

“Want anything from Japan while I’m there? Eastern cosmetics or a big-titty figurine?”

“My friend. To come back alive. And not depressed as shit.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they have those in Hokkaido. I might have to take another flight down to Osaka for that.”

Trish grinned at the thought, but shook her head. “Alright. You’re booked.” The old printer whirred to life under the desk, spitting out his boarding pass in loud, janky spurts. “With it being an international flight on short notice, I couldn’t get you past the security screening.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t planning on taking Rebellion or the girls with me.”

She sat up from reaching under the desk to grab the papers still warm from the printer, blinking at him. “Are...are you  _ serious _ ? A Son of Sparda, travelling alone in a foreign land  _ known _ for its bullshit demons  _ unarmed _ ? Dante, I know you said this wasn’t a suicide mission, but it’s -”

“Relax,” he groaned, cutting her off. “There’s nothing in the TSA guidelines saying I can’t trigger.”

“Yeah, it’ll just freak out the natives and TSA.”

“TSA’s a joke, and you know it.”

The woman sighed to herself, her heels clicking on the floorboards his only warning before she dropped the papers on his face. He hardly flinched, lifting a lazy hand to pick up the pages and skim the black ink. She leaned against the back of the couch, looking down at him.

“So why Hokkaido?”

“Verge is an ice demon. He likes the cold. And as obvious as Mt Fuji is, that’s probably why I can strike that off the list of possibilities. Too popular, too touristy. I mean, granted, he could be under an old alias in the middle of Tokyo for all I know. Pulling jobs out of a hole-in-the-wall office. But…” He shook his head. “He doesn’t like people. He doesn’t like crowded places. He’ll want somewhere remote and less populated.”

Trish quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That and Verge has a thing for curry soup.” 

“So, what? You’re going to lurk each shop that sells it until he pops up?”

“Sounds about right, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is sounding less like a hunt for your brother and more like a vacation.”

“You’ve apparently never been to Hokkaido in winter.”

“And you have?”

“Well,  _ no _ …”

“ _ Damn it, Dante! _ ” 

He flinched and grinned at her exasperated exclamation. The hunter forced himself to sit up and stand, bopping her lightly on the head with the printed papers. “Relax,” he said for probably the hundredth time that afternoon. “I got this.”

Trish breathed out a heavy sigh, her eyes falling away from him to the massive sword hanging on the wall. “I’m trusting you on this,” she replied, though whether or not her words were for Dante or the sword of Sparda, even the demon detective couldn’t deduce. Her eyes returned to him, and she forced a small smile. “You better get packing. Your flight is in seven hours.”

“Joy,” he grumbled, setting his boarding pass on his desk on his way to the stairs. 


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the crowded airport, squished between businessmen and families rushing to get across the states for Christmas, Dante felt naked without his weapons. He had changed into something more comfortable for the twenty-plus hour flights, knowing he’d be stuck in a tiny economy-class seat. But he could be wearing a three-piece suit and still feel  _ exposed _ without Rebellion on his back and Ebony and Ivory at his sides. It was too late to turn back now. Those three grand tickets were non-refundable.

It could be argued that airports were places that existed beyond time and space. Pocket dimensions of chaos where no one is phased by the going-ons of those around them, regardless of ridiculousness. Where gods like Loki and Susano-o reigned over the businessmen drinking whiskey next to the college students in onesies drinking wine. Whether or not all of that was  _ true _ was one thing, but Dante did know for certain that he  _ loathed _ flying. He hated the ridiculous bag check-in fee (though he was delightfully surprised this time around to learn that the airline policy had changed to allow one [1] free bag). He hated the long line at the security checkpoint, and that feeling of not being able to move fast enough to make room for the people behind him. And he hated the price of a bottle of water on the other side. Honestly, that water had better be the purest tears of God for it to be worth $16.99 plus tax. 

Dante stretched his legs out as he sat on the carpeted floor of his gate, people-watching as he waited. He had a messenger-bag as his carry-on, loaded down with activities to keep his childish mind from getting him into trouble during the flight. Feeling his hands get restless, he dug through it and grabbed a deck of playing cards, shuffling mindlessly as he let his eyes wander over his fellow travelers. 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the pillar as his hands continued to shuffle. The cards became pliable with the warmth from his palms, bending easily with each shuffle. If he wanted to, Dante could start doing tricks. Maybe earn himself some pennies back by entertaining the people around him. He resisted the temptation, though he started to feel cards slip out of the deck on their own. 

_ “Cards have something to say when they start doing that,” _ Eva had told him long ago. The sunlight was spilling onto the little kitchen table, and he could still smell those pastries in the oven. He watched in fascination as she shuffled a plain deck of playing cards with the nimble fingers of a veteran card-sharp. As if to prove a point, one card started to slip away as she was shuffling, but rather than tucking it back in, she paused long enough to pull it out and lay face-up on the table.  _ “You just have to be willing to hear their wisdom.”  _ She laughed.  _ “Or be brave to face their criticism. Because that will come too.” _

“Alright then,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes once more, his gaze going to the cards in hand. “Tell me what you want me to know.”

Almost immediately, he fumbled in his shuffling and a card popped out. Dante tugged the card out gently and laid it face up beside him. The six of spades. What did that one mean again? He had to look it up on his phone. He was a child when he had watched Eva cast her magic and use cards to tell the fortunes of visiting friends and neighbors; it had been years since he even thought about his half-witch heritage. 

“Six of spades,” he read to himself under his breath. “Moving on, travel, mentally getting to a better place.” Dante furrowed his brows at the deck in his hand. “Well,  _ yeah. _ No shit, Sherlock. I’m traveling! Tell me something I don’t know.”

As if to give him the spiritual middle finger, another card started to slip from his hold. He laid it on top of the first card. The four of spades this time. 

His heart skipped a beat as he read the meaning on the website. “Recuperation, recovery, contemplation.” Was Vergil hurt? Wounded? His anxiety skyrocketed, and suddenly Dante felt restless. If Vergil was in danger, there was nothing he could do for the next twenty-four hours. Would Vergil survive? Would he live that long without Dante? Or would the younger twin swoop in just in time for Vergil to die in his arms? Again.

The next card was the five of clubs. “Competition, disagreement, irritation.” Dante snorted. “Sounds like Vergil on a good day. What else have you got?”

Two of hearts. Of all the things he remembered Eva teaching him, it was that this was a lover’s card. The website agreed with his memory. “Deepening attraction.” The next card, the nine of hearts, only made him wonder more. “Satisfaction, sensual pleasure, spiritual growth.” He closed his eyes once more, leaning his head back against the cool pillar. 

Would Vergil remember? Like Trish and Lady, Dante and Vergil had been more than just partners so long ago. They had been lovers. Taboo and forbidden, after the heat of a battle or the despair that would take them by surprise, they had comforted one another in pleasure. Dante’s own memories were fuzzy with time and booze, pushed away with the rest of his past in a mass grave to be buried and forgotten. In the time since then, the red hunter had bought and sold sex like a commodity, just another vice to get him from one day to the next. Would Vergil take him back? Would his other half touch him again, knowing how stained he was in the sin of pleasure and death? 

“Maybe I’m just reading this wrong,” Dante muttered darkly. “For all I know, he’s a monk now.”

The next card only confused him more. The ace of diamonds. Which, according to the little website he’d opened, meant “new project, job, home, win”. 

Before he could think too much about it, a flight attendant began calling for his gate to prepare for boarding. Grumbling curses, Dante picked up his cards, shuffled them one last time, and put them away in his messenger bag. He grunted as he stood, his body already stiff from sitting on the ground too long. 

During the whole boarding process, Dante’s mind mulled over the half-assed tarot reading he’d given himself.  _ “Moving on, travel, mentally getting to a better place; recuperation, recovery, contemplation; competition, disagreement, irritation; deepening attraction; satisfaction, sensual pleasure, spiritual growth; new project, job, home, win.”  _ It was all a jumbled mess, as scattered as his own thoughts and feelings on the trip. 

Being in the back of the plane, Dante was among the first of the economy class to board; once the business class, first class, and veterans were seated of course. He tucked his travel bag underneath the seat in front of him and shrugged out of his coat, then took his seat. The belt buckled tightly around his waist, he pulled his coat over his body like a blanket and leaned his head against the fiberglass of the 747’s interior. His eyes went out the window, not really seeing the flight crew at work outside or his own reflection.  _ Maybe Trish is right. This is just an expensive vacation. I’m travelling, I’ll be recuperating, and I’ll get into a fight about it when I get home because I couldn’t find Vergil. Maybe with Trish, maybe with Lady. I’ll get tangled in a job, get involved with a client, and somewhere along the way, I’ll be satisfied by everything. _

The plane jolted beneath him as it began taxiing to the runway, disturbing his train of thought momentarily. He felt that moment of hesitation, of deep rooted  _ fear _ as the plane took off, but that fear went away as he watched New York shrink below.

As the plane reached cruising altitude, Dante closed his eyes one more time and began to doze off. His last thought before he drifted off was a simple question.

_ What the hell is a ‘new win’? _


	4. Chapter 4

It was snowing in Hakodate when Dante’s plane landed. His flight arrived at four in the afternoon Japan time, and though he slept for a good chunk of his flight, his head felt like it was filled with concrete. His cozy sweats and warm coat were suddenly not good enough for the winter chill, and he groaned to himself when he remembered that his journey wasn’t exactly over yet. He still had to find Vergil, and he still had to fly back home, regardless of whether or not Vergil was with him or if he even found his lost brother. That creeping self-doubt wormed its way into his groggy mind. 

_ What if Trish was right? _

_ What if this was a bad idea? _

Spite suddenly fueled him. There was no  _ way _ the girls would let him live this down if he came back empty-handed. 

He  _ had _ to find Vergil.

He  _ had  _ to bring Vergil home.

After grabbing his bag from the baggage claim, Dante went to the nearest bathroom. He gave himself a hooker bath and changed into something warmer. To add a strawberry on top, he grabbed himself a hot coffee from a tiny Starbucks kiosk on his way out. The hunter knew  _ some _ Japanese, absorbed from watching too much anime and spending time with weeb-master Vergil, but it was hardly enough to get him through conversations. His only saving grace was the translator on his phone, which he just left on at this point to help him navigate the airport labyrinth and customs. 

Trish at least had given him enough forethought that she already had a car reserved for him for when he arrived. One janky conversation, two signed forms, and a credit-card swipe later, and he was sitting in a reasonably priced car with a map of Hokkaido spread across his lap. A black pen in his hand, Dante got to work.

First he crossed out the major cities; Hakodate, Sapporo, anywhere that appeared in bold. For added measure, he crossed out anywhere that  _ wasn’t _ bolded either.  _ Remote _ , Dante thought to himself.  _ Somewhere remote. Away from humans, away from civilization.  _ With his phone, he looked up anywhere that sold curry soup and marked his map. There were only a handful that seemed to be far away enough from major cities or towns. He looked up onsens and marked only the ones that were near curry soup shops. 

There were three.

Lastly, he looked up the flower that had been with the letter. It was more common on the southern islands of Japan, but there was a small patch of Hokkaido where the rare flower grew. He drew a circle around that section, encompassing only one place where there was an onsen and a curry soup shop that was away from a major town or city.

Dante’s heart raced in his throat as he capped his pen and tucked it into his messenger bag. His finger traced the roads on the map, connecting Hakodate to that mark. He turned on his map app on his phone and got directions to the remote spot. Even before the GPS had finished calculating the route, the hunter knew it would be hours before he got there. The snow would impede him further. He sighed to himself and tossed the map into the passenger seat, propping his phone up on the dashboard of his rental car. Shivering, he turned it on and waited for his fingers to warm up before he backed out of the parking spot in the rental lot, following the directions onto the highway.

All through the drive, Dante thought about Vergil. He caught himself speeding more than once, grumbling and growling in frustration every time he had to force himself to slow down. He was nervous and jittery, anxious and excited; he was a mess of emotions all over again, a force of nature trapped in the finite space of a mortal body. He wanted nothing more than to teleport to his brother’s side, to just suddenly  _ be _ there beside Vergil, wherever the ice demon may be. Driving wasn’t fast enough, and if he knew it would have been faster, Dante would have abandoned the car to run. The wind made his affordable rental sluggish, and it fought against him as he drove. The snow blinded him, filling his headlights with impenetrable white. The voice on his phone counted down the miles until his next turn or landmark. He was so close, he could taste it.

The blur of white came out of nowhere, speeding across his headlights too fast to be a normal animal. What it was, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was large, fluffy, and had long ears and an even longer tail. Dante’s gut instinct was to slam on the breaks, realizing seconds too late that he should have just hit the damn whatever. The car skidded on the slick road, the tires screeched in an unearthly cry, and he lifted his arms to shield his face as the vehicle slammed into the snowbank. The force of the impact shook him so violently that Dante’s head smacked against the window beside him. He heard it crack, and he felt warmth dripping down his temple. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the rumble of falling snow cascading down the mountainside onto his car, burying the vehicle in so much of the stuff that it creaked from the weight. Everything happened in the span of seconds.

The devil inside him whispered as he struggled to regain his senses.  _ “You’re going to die, Dante,” _ he heard it say.  _ “Leave the car on, and you’ll die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Turn the car off, and you’ll freeze to death before you’re found.” _

Dante tried to lick his lips, tried to get them to move to speak, but his body felt like rubber. He couldn’t hear the music on the radio over the ringing in his ears or the headache like a spike through his skull. Dante even thought he smelled gasoline leaking, but his body wasn’t responding. It was as if every bone was replaced with a limp noodle. He tried to think, but even his mind was foggy and heavy. His hand flopped until it found the ignition, and it took all of his strength to turn the car off. 

Chill set in immediately. The cold air seeped through cracked windows and dented seals, through the vents and seams. Dante hugged himself weakly, shivering in violent convulsions as the temperature dropped. His skin prickled, and he felt his inner demon clawing against his flesh, as if it struggled against him to free itself of its own will to heal him. But Dante didn’t have the focus, not even a fraction of the strength required to summon the beast. All he could do was hope and pray, and even that was becoming more difficult to do with each passing moment, with each degree of heat lost. 

His eyes opened a sliver and saw only white outside his windshield. White of the mountain of snow that buried his car, glowing from the headlights. For a moment, he thought he saw the snow move, as if being dug out by bare hands. He thought he saw his brother’s face looking down at him through the pane of cracked glass. But Dante dismissed it as an illusion, a hallucination brought on by early onset carbon monoxide poisoning.

He knew it couldn’t  _ really _ be Vergil, because Vergil’s face wasn’t normally purple. Dante smiled to himself, glad that his last conscious thought was of his beloved brother before the cold and concussion dragged him into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

_ “...te…” _

A voice was speaking softly, as if from somewhere far away.

_ “...nte…” _

It grew closer to the darkness in Dante’s mind, like the last edges of a ripple brushing against him. He was curled up in darkness, comfortable and cozy somewhere warm and wet. Was he in the womb again, moments from being birthed into the world?

_ “...ante…” _

He knew the voice from somewhere. It was sensual and warm like caramel on his lips and tongue, and it sent a shiver down his spine to hear it closer still. The sound of his name was spoken in his ear.

_ “Dante.” _

The hunter groaned as the throbbing headache returned, dragged into consciousness kicking and screaming. His body felt weak and limp, suspended in the darkness. As he came to his senses, one at a time, the world pieced itself together around him. 

He wasn’t just limp-limbed from the accident. Dante  _ was _ suspended in darkness. The water was hot around him as he reclined against rough, cool stone and floated. He couldn’t feel clothes against his skin, only the water around him. A rag rested on his forehead, covering his eyes and shielding him from the light of wherever he was. A hand was on his shoulder, strong and reassuring. As if it couldn’t help itself, the thumb stroked his damp skin affectionately. Lovingly. He heard water flowing into the hotspring, cascading over rocks and burbling in pools. He heard snow falling beyond the bubble of warmth, and he heard the wind rustling the trees. He heard the rhythmic thok-thok of the  _ shishi-odoshi _ to keep the deer away. He could smell and taste his own sweat on his lips. And that perfume...that sweet flowery smell that he always associated with Vergil.

Dante’s hand flopped out of the water, blindly grabbing at that hand on his shoulder. He felt that it was attached to a whole arm. In the darkness, he heard his brother chuckle lowly. 

“I’m here,” Vergil assured him in a purr, giving Dante’s shoulder a squeeze.

His hand slid up Vergil’s shoulder and cupped his neck. Before the other man could protest, Dante pulled him into a hungry kiss. He felt Vergil gasp and shudder as Dante’s tongue penetrated his lips, swirling to taste his mate as if starved. The elder submitted to Dante’s whims, letting the fiery twin tangle his moist fingers in Vergil’s hair. Dante felt Vergil’s hands on his naked waist under the water, his palms exploring the hunter’s body as if feeling it for the first time. As Dante sat up, he felt the rag on his forehead fall away into the water. He was breathless by the time he released Vergil’s lips, pressing his forehead against Vergil’s. Despite the heat of the spring, Vergil’s skin felt cool in places. 

“I found you,” Dante whispered, his eyes still closed as he cupped Vergil’s face with both hands. 

Vergil chuffed quietly. “ _ You _ found  _ me _ ? As I recall,  _ I’m _ the one that found  _ you _ buried under the wreckage of that car.”

“Potato, tomahto. You’re here, I’m here, that’s all that matters.” 

“Is it though? Dante...Once again, you’ve failed to consider the consequences of your actions.”

“Consequences? Vergil, what…” He shook his head, pulling away to open his eyes for the first time since he woke up.

He hadn’t been hallucinating. Dante stared wide-eyed at his brother’s face in his hands, illuminated by the light of hanging lanterns. Half of Vergil’s face was purple; like a spreading bruise, his skin was discolored and etched with webbing veins. His skin there was cool to the touch, and Dante’s skin prickled at the nearness of raw demonic power. Vergil’s left eye was no longer icy blue; instead his iris was as red as a ruby and seemed to glow with its own light. As his eyes traveled over Vergil, Dante saw that it wasn’t just his face that was affected. Vergil was literally cut down the middle for the length of his torso as the corruption spread from his heart, where a blackened gash infected him. Dante’s hand went to that wound, and he felt nothing. Only cold. Only darkness. Not even the beat of Vergil’s heart.

“Vergil, no…Please…”

“You’re too late, Dante,” Vergil said softly, his hand resting on Dante’s to keep his hand there on his chest. “The process, I am told, is irreversible. The only difference your presence here makes is now you get to watch me die.”

“No…” Dante shook his head and clung to Vergil, holding him so near that he could feel the cold radiating from his brother’s body. “No, I’m not letting you go. I just found you. I’m not letting you give up like this.  _ You _ can’t just give up! We can fight this! Together!”

“Dante…” Was the moisture on Dante’s cheeks tears or droplets from the spring? It didn’t matter, as they were tenderly wiped away. “My emotional, foolish baby brother...What  _ am _ I going to do with you?”

“Come home, Vergil,” the younger twin begged, his voice strained and the words cracking in his throat. “Come back to the shop with me. We can turn this around. You can live with me. We can take jobs together again.” He tried to smile, but it felt as broken as his own heart. “It’ll be just like when we were dumb teenagers again…”

“You know better than that, Dante. It won’t be the same at all. We’re too different, too out of sync to be able to live together.” Vergil shook his head, and he pulled away, slipping as easily from Dante’s grasp as a winter breeze. “I can’t go back.”

“Then I’ll stay! I’ll stay here with you and help you fight this magic off! For as long as it takes, I’ll stay here with you!”

“I’m going to become a monster. Every day, I feel the last shreds of my humanity slipping away. It’s not something I want you to watch, nor is it something you’ll want to see. Stay the evening, and leave in the morning.”

“Do you still love me, Vergil?”

He saw his twin visibly startle, as if the question had caught him by surprise. “Dante, I don’t…”

“Do you still love me? Even the least little bit?”

Vergil hesitated, and Dante couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. He watched the internal struggle in Vergil’s eyes as his heterochromatic gaze fell to the rippling water between them. His hand went to his blackened heart, and it was only then that Dante saw the scars. Shallow marks that almost disappeared behind the webbing veins, but he saw them and knew them. He could feel them on his own chest, as if he had tried clawing out his own heart himself.

Slowly, Vergil nodded. “I do,” he whispered, his words almost lost to the night. “I do still love you, Dante. And I fear that I always will.”

Dante waded through the spring and wrapped his arms around his twin, pulling Vergil tight against him in a hug. He buried his face in Vergil’s shoulder, his lips moving against his skin. “Then I’m not letting go,” he replied just as quietly. “I’m not letting go, and I’m not leaving you. I love you too much to let that happen again.” He lifted his head to look Vergil in the eye, a wet hand running through Vergil’s hair to slick it back. His hand cupped Vergil’s corrupted cheek; his thumb stroked purpled skin. “I love you.”

“Foolishness,” Vergil muttered before kissing his lips once more. Dante admired and appreciated the view as the elder twin got out of the hot spring, covering himself with a navy yukata. He glanced over his shoulder at Dante, quirking a snowy brow at him. “Come inside. Since you insist on staying, your sleeping quarters need to be arranged.”  


	6. Chapter 6

Much to Dante’s delight, the two would be sharing a room. Still running a towel through his own hair, Dante followed his twin through the inn to their room, his own yukata lazily tied closed. The room itself was rather large and roomy for just Vergil, and when he saw the second futon already laid out beside Vergil’s, the demon detective had to wonder if he was expected. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the food laid out on a table in the sitting room, reminding him that it’d been hours since he ate.

Vergil neatly tucked his legs under himself as he sat down at the table beside Dante, who took his seat on the tatami mat floor less gracefully. He watched Vergil pour ladlefuls of curry soup from a large pot into a smaller bowl, bringing it and the spoon to his lips to blow on softly to cool. Noticing that Dante was staring, Vergil narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What?”

“Nothing,” Dante replied, trying to fight his grin. “Nothing at all.” He served himself a bowl of rice and a few pieces of grilled fish, pouring just a little bit of sauce over the top of both before eating. Despite his Western heritage, Dante was adept enough with chopsticks to not make a mess or a fool of himself as he ate. His eyes skimmed the spread, mentally guesstimating the cost of the meal. “So how are you able to afford all this? Taking on private jobs again?”

His brother slowly lowered the bowl from his face, guiltily refusing to make eye-contact. “No,” Vergil answered in a controlled calm voice. “My master is paying for everything, to ensure my transformation completes without complication.”

“Uh-huh. Who’s your master, Verge?”

“His identity is of little consequence to you.”

“Who is it, Verge?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll learn soon enough when he comes to check my progress and sees that you’re here.”

“Vergil, say it. Say his  _ fucking  _ name.”

The icy demon sat up straight, but kept his eyes on the table between them. “Mundus. Mundus is funding my corruption.”

“Talk to me, Vergil. What’s going on here? What, you couldn’t beat him so now you’re joining him? For fuck’s sake…”

“It’s not..!” Vergil sighed, glancing around at the paper walls and shadows dancing in the lantern light. He leaned close to Dante to whisper to him, his mismatched eyes finally daring to meet his twin’s. “It’s not that  _ simple _ . He knows you are my weakness. In exchange for your protection, I allowed him to take me, to use me as his weapon on Earth. But now that you’re  _ here, _ and you refuse to leave, he’ll use you to his advantage.”

Dante shook his head. “We won’t be here when he comes back,” he promised. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“He’ll  _ find _ me, Dante.”

“He won’t. And if he does, we’ll fight him together. The way we were  _ meant _ to.” Dante set aside his food to reach to Vergil, cupping the back of his brother’s head to pull him close. He closed his eyes as their foreheads booped together. “I’m not letting go of you. And I’m not handing you over to someone like  _ Mundus _ .” 

Vergil chuffed at the spiteful way Dante said the name. “You sound like a jealous, jilted lover.”

“Yeah? And maybe I am.”

“I  _ have _ had other conquests than you.”

“So have I. That doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you. Or that you’re not my favorite. Because I miss you bad, Verge. I miss you so much that it eats away at me, down to my very soul. I  _ need _ you. I need you in my life again. Even if we fight like cats and dogs, I still need you.”

He felt and heard Vergil’s shaky breath, that shield of ice cracking for just a moment to let his fears and doubts and insecurities shine through. His hand came up to rest on Dante’s hand, holding that warm palm in place. 

“I need you too, Dante,” he whispered. “I need you so much. I  _ miss _ you so much. We can’t be together, you know that, but having you here with me now...” He chuckled weakly, and for a moment Dante worried he would start crying. “I can almost hope that what you say is true. That I can come home. That we can be together. That...That we  _ can _ have a happy ending.”

“Well, you better start believing it. Curse or not, I’m getting you home.” 

“It won’t be easy.” Vergil’s voice took such a sudden, serious tone that Dante’s eyes opened to meet his brother’s intense gaze. They were no longer lovers. Now they were partners. “This area is protected by a powerful demon. No doubt it was the one that caused your accident, and has surely informed Mundus of your presence.”

“I didn’t bring my weapons,” Dante admitted. Vergil pulled away enough to pinch Dante’s ear without consequence. “I can still trigger!” He hissed lowly. “There’s nothing stopping me from tearing whatever it is a new one for fucking with you.”

Vergil huffed, letting go of him. “No weapons, no backup. Dante, this is possibly your worst rescue plan yet.” 

He shook his head as he picked up his bowl of food once more. “Nuh-uh. Budapest was  _ way _ worse than this.”

“You and I remember Budapest much differently then,” Vergil grumbled into his bowl of curry soup. 

Dante grinned to himself. “I’ll think of something. For right now, though, I want to focus on reversing this corruption magic that’s going on. You say it’s irreversible, I say there’s no such thing.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He smiled, more to himself than to Vergil. “Because in the few minutes we’ve been sitting here, I’ve noticed a change in you. I can see it. Your eye has flecks of blue again, and some of your skin is starting to look normal again.” As Vergil opened his yukata to look down at himself, seeing that the purple hue on his skin was fading very slowly, Dante continued speaking quietly. “Me being here might get us in trouble, but it might just save your hide after all.”

“What do you suppose the cure is?” Vergil asked, tucking the cloth neatly back into place.

“I honestly can’t imagine what could  _ possibly _ push back the darkness from your heart,” Dante replied sarcastically, smirking as he ate.

Vergil’s gaze narrowed on him. “Don’t say it.”

“Maybe love…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Isn’t such a weakness after all?”

Blushing, Vergil quickly set aside his bowl of soup and reached to grab Dante to pull him into a headlock. Laughing, Dante set aside his bowl as well and scooted away. Defeated by distance and laziness, Vergil grumbled as he returned to his spot at the table. Though nothing more was said on the subject, Dante’s mind continued to work. If they were trapped by a demon in this place, there was only one thing that could be done. 

They were going to have to go hunting in order to survive and escape.


	7. Chapter 7

Dante woke up alone to the sound of winter songbirds and a wind chime ringing outside. Vergil’s futon was empty and neatly made beside his own, and when Dante reached to touch it, he felt that it was cold from being long abandoned. He grumbled as he snuggled deeper into his blanket and mattress, not wanting to give up the warmth and coziness so soon, but every movement made this joint or that spot on his back pop. And as comfortable as he could make himself, his mind was already racing, alert and at work too quickly to let him feel sleepy. He  _ had _ to get up.

He found Vergil outside. Dante watched, leaning on the doorframe leading from their room to a snowy garden, as his mirror went through his morning exercises. Despite the cold, Vergil had worked himself into a sweat, his skin flushed pink. He’d shrugged out of the top half of his yukata, exposing his torso to the cool air as he practiced with a katana made of pure ice and will. Noticing Dante watching, he dismissed the blade with a thought.

“I apologize for not waking you,” Vergil said as he came up to his brother. “I assumed you wanted your sleep.”

“Do you exercise every morning, or is this your way of trying to impress me?”

“A feat that requires very little effort.”

“You’re not wrong, but…” Dante smirked, brushing one of Vergil’s perky nipples with a knuckle. “I can think of much better ways of  _ warming up _ on a cold day.”

Vergil smacked his hand away as if Dante were a child reaching for the cookie jar. “I’m sure you can, but I have little desire to do so in such a public place.”

Dante tried not to look as wounded as he felt at his curved advances. As tempting as it was to amp up his flirting or point out that they were alone, the fiery twin instead dropped the subject. His eyes traveled over Vergil’s body, noting the bruised flesh of his face and torso. Vergil didn’t shy away from him as Dante pressed a hand to his twin’s chest, tracing the line of pink between his normal skin and the spreading corruption. He smiled as he looked up and met Vergil’s eyes. 

“Call me crazy, but I think you’re improving. How are we feeling this morning? Monstrous? Ravenous? Hungering for human flesh? Stabbier than usual?”

“About the same, actually,” Vergil answered cooly, stepping past Dante to enter their room.

“Really? Nothing?”

Vergil rolled his eyes as he untied the yukata, letting it fall from his waist. “What do you wish me to say, Dante? If I say that yes, I crave the taste of flesh in my mouth and the urge to mate like a monster in my loins, you’ll worry. If I say that I’m happy and chipper, you’ll know that I’m lying. And stop looking at me like that. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me naked.”

“In my defense, this is the first time I’ve seen you naked in fifteen years. You look good, Verge. Mmm, good enough to eat.”

“Will you  _ stop that _ ?” Another smack rung through the air. “It’s difficult enough fighting off the urge to be demonic. I don’t need you to be a horny disaster distracting me further.”

“Maybe this is just what you need though. Let loose. Give up some of that control. Ow!” 

“I’ve stabbed you before, Dante. I will not hesitate to do so again if you continue your sexual advances.” 

Dante grumbled in defeat, lifting his hands from his brother’s waist to hold by his head defensively. He stepped back, looking away from that delicious body before him. The hunter didn’t see the glint in Vergil’s eyes as he stepped closer, grasping Dante’s hands. Vergil easily twisted Dante’s arms behind his back and pulled him into a fierce kiss that left him breathless when Vergil finally released him. 

“That doesn’t mean for you to give up hope either, dear brother,” Vergil purred, his eyes fluttering from Dante’s gaze to his lips. “There’s a good chance that I’ll... _ come _ around before we depart from here.”

He let go of Dante and stepped past him, finally making it to the bathroom. The door closed between them, locking Dante out to cool off on his own. Grinning to himself, Dante dug through his bags. He laid out his clothes on the futon and got dressed, promising himself he’d shower that evening to make up for his lack of one this morning. He grabbed his cigarettes and his coat, and checked his phone. The hunter’s brows furrowed. Zero signal. Holding the cigarette in his lips, he went outside to the patio. He noticed the spread of food that had magically appeared in the sitting room as he walked by.

A strong shiver coursed over his body as he got outside, and Dante clasped his coat closed to preserve the warmth. It was still snowing heavily, burying the world in a blanket of white. He could almost imagine that the world didn’t even exist beyond the bamboo enclosure surrounding the _ onsen ryokan _ . He had to cup his hand over the end of his cigarette to get it to light, and even then, it took him several tries to get his lighter to catch. He almost gave up and resorted to using a small fire spell, but the lighter finally did it’s job and he breathed in that first puff of nicotine and tobacco. That sweet high wouldn’t last, he knew, but it helped. Cigarette in one hand, phone in the other, Dante wandered the enclosed garden in search of a cell tower signal. 

Although he didn’t find a single bar of cell phone signal, Dante  _ did _ find a little shrine. It was along the back wall of the garden, cut into the mountainside itself. The shallow cave provided cover for the statue carved into the stone, just at eye level where any passerby could easily find. The statue was of a seated fox, it’s paw lifted as it looked back at Dante. The little dish beside it was empty, and Dante patted himself down in search of an offering. Smiling to himself, he took the cigarette from his lips and set it in the dish. He found the folded piece of wax paper and the pressed blossom in a pocket, and carefully he unwrapped it to lay the flower beside the smoking cigarette on the offering plate. Dante clapped his hands together and bent his head in prayer.

_ I wish Vergil would come home with me, and that we could live together happily. _

He lifted his arms to shield his face as a strong gust of wind blew a swirling blast of snow at him. Dante could swear he heard a voice in the wind, but what it said he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that when he lowered his arms again, he was standing in front of a blank mountain wall. 

There was no cave.

There was no statue.

His offerings of cigarette and flower were gone. 

Dante’s brows furrowed as he ran a hand over the stone mountainside. He had to be hallucinating, he decided. “Must have hit my head harder than I thought,” Dante muttered to himself, shaking his head as he backed away. He flinched at the sound of barking near his feet. 

A fox sat in the snow, blinking up at him. 

“Mwhat?” Dante asked it, finding himself using his goodboi doggo voice. He knelt and stuck his hand out at it. “What are  _ you _ wanting? I don’t have any food with me, buddy.”

The fox sniffed at his hand before pressing its head against his palm. Dante chuckled to himself, petting the fluffy animal. “Tell you what,” he said lowly to it, as if telling the fox a secret. “Follow me, and I’ll get you some grub, alright?” The hunter stood and headed back to the  _ onsen ryokan _ , glancing down occasionally to make sure the fox was following him. He both was and wasn’t surprised that the fox stayed a few steps beside and behind him, following him with interest all the way back to the patio. 

It sat patiently by the door as Dante slid it open, knocked the snow from his boots, then removed them to enter the warm room. The fox watched him with interest as he went to the table where Vergil sat and plated a few pieces of grilled fish and fruit. Dante smiled to the little fox as he set the plate in front of the animal. “ _ Itadakimasu, _ yeah?” He patted its head once more before sliding the door closed.

“What was  _ that _ all about?” Vergil asked, watching Dante remove his coat and hang it to dry.

“There was a fox out there!” Dante exclaimed excitedly. “I was worried that it hadn’t eaten, so I gave it a little bit of food!”

The icy twin rolled his eyes. “Dante, that’s dangerous. You shouldn’t give a wild animal food. You’ll just encourage it to come in and steal next time. Take it back, before it gets attached to you.”

“Fine,” Dante sighed and grumbled in the same breath. 

He slid open the door once more but stopped short, blinking.

Fox and plate were gone. There wasn’t even a dent in the snow where the fox had been. Only Dante’s footprints marred the scene of white. Dante slid the door closed slowly and latched it shut.

“Verge,” he said quietly. “I  _ really _ don’t like this place…”


	8. Chapter 8

Vergil’s condition worsened that afternoon when the  _ yuki-onna _ came to check on the progress of the icy twin’s corruption. 

Dante’s inner demon stirred at the nearness of the powerful spirit; it was his only warning before the door from the hallway leading to their room tore open to admit the swarm of demons. Ogres in fur and massive, stinking  _ oni _ flooded the room so suddenly that Dante didn’t even get to trigger. Weaponless, powerless, the fight that Dante put up was brief. He was quickly brought down before he could even get to his feet; dizzy from being beat senseless by the clubs in the hands of the ogres and  _ oni _ , he was dragged to his knees beside Vergil. In the corner of his eye, Dante saw his brother sitting on his knees, his head bowed in respect and submission. He didn’t need a sword to his throat to remind him to behave. Unlike Dante, who had to be held down by his arms and hair. The fiery twin snarled as he struggled, unwilling to give up so easily.

The  _ yuki-onna _ was beautiful. Dante could sense that she was an old spirit by the aura of power that radiated off of her. Her skin and kimono were the same pale white, as pure and untouched as the snow outside the  _ onsen ryokan _ . Her hair, black as ebony, hung like a midnight veil down her back and matched the endless abyss of her eyes. Her lips were painted red, though whether it was with cosmetics or blood, Dante really didn’t want to know. 

She smiled coyly as she stepped up to Dante. She lifted his chin with a folded fan, forcing him to glare up at her. “Is this a gift for our master, Vergil-san? Or for me?”

“Neither, you bi-!”

Dante’s snarl was cut off abruptly as she slapped him with the fan. His cheek stung from the blow, his ear ringing in sharp pain. 

“I wasn’t speaking to  _ you _ ,” the  _ yuki-onna _ hissed at him. Dante gasped as her freezing cold hand touched his still-stinging cheek, sliding down to caress his throat. “Such a handsome toy. I will enjoy milking the heat from your body.”

She pulled her hand away from him and turned her attention to Vergil. Her gaze narrowed at the elder twin. “I see you are resisting it. You should be closer to completion by now.” The snow maiden smiled sweetly. Darkly. “No matter. I believe I can help you along.”

Vergil kept his head bowed as she rested a hand lightly in his soft hair. 

“Vergil, don’t!” Dante screamed, struggling against the ogres holding him down.

His words were unheard as a black aura surrounded the  _ yuki-onna _ . Black veins like ink appeared on her skin, marring her beauty. Dante could only watch in horror and despair as Vergil gave in to her power, the darkness transferring to him. The elder twin cried out in pain as the tendrils on his face spread, crossing the bridge of his nose and chin to touch his jaw and ear. Dante knew without having to see for himself that the corruption was spreading all over him, not just his face. When his right eye became red as well, the snow maiden pulled her hand away and let him go. As if her strength were all that had been holding him up, Vergil collapsed gasping onto the tatami mat floor.

“Release him,” she told the ogres, who flung Dante onto the floor beside him. She opened her fan to hide her smirk. “A pity that I didn’t get to kill you myself. My death for you would have been much sweeter. Goodbye, Son of Sparda.” 

Dante hesitated, torn between chasing after the demons and assisting his brother. He chose Vergil, crawling to his collapsed twin. The hunter rolled Vergil over onto his back, watching helplessly as Vergil writhed in pain in his arms. He brushed a lock of hair from Vergil’s sweaty brow and felt that his skin was cold and clammy. Unable to do anything else, Dante rocked Vergil in his arms and spoke to him in low, panicked whispers. 

“I’m here, Vergil,” Dante mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. “C’mon, you’ve got to fight it. I need you, Verge. I need my brother. Please don’t leave me.  _ Please _ .” 

“Foolishness,” Vergil rasped between shaky breaths. His eyes were the color of blood when they fluttered open to look at Dante; they made his coat look pink in comparison. He closed his eyes once more and relaxed under Dante’s hand, the younger twin cupping his elder’s cheek and softly stroking his face with his thumb. “Power, Dante...I need more power...to protect you.”

“You f-fucking idiot. I’m...I’m not the one that needs protecting.” 

“Dante, you’re crying.”

“No I’m not.”

He chuffed quietly, not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell from Dante’s chin onto his face. 

“Vergil, what did she mean? That she didn’t get to kill me?”

The back of his neck prickled as he felt skin shift into scales under his hands briefly before changing back. Vergil’s breath became more labored and his brow furrowed. “She expects me to lose control. To kill you myself.”

Dante’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel the battle that Vergil was fighting. His own demon was screaming in the back of his mind, calling out to its second half, to its twin, its mate. He held Vergil’s hand in his own, held his brother’s body closer to him. 

“Tell me what to do,” Dante begged. “What can I do to help you?”

Vergil sat up enough to meet his twin’s lips with his own, kissing him softly and slowly. Dante could have melted into him, if he hadn’t been so afraid. He sighed as they kissed, letting Vergil control how passionate it was. Both of them gasped softly in unsteady breaths as their lips parted from one another once more. Vergil’s hand squeezed Dante’s.

“Don’t let go,” Vergil whispered. “No matter what happens, Dante. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he promised in return, closing his eyes as he touched his forehead to Vergil’s. “No matter what happens. I won’t l-!”

Vergil’s cry of pain and convulsion cut Dante off before he could finish his vow. He flinched back, looking down at his twin with wide eyes. The dark purple bruising darkened his face as it, too, spread across Vergil’s skin under the hunter’s gaze. Scales crept along his neck and throat, tickling his jaw before turning back into skin and cloth once more. Whatever method Vergil was using to keep his inner demon under control obviously wasn’t working. 

Dante kissed his forehead. “It’s okay. Let go.”

“I’ll hurt you…”

He chuckled weakly. “I’ll live.”

“Dante, no...I can’t. I love you too much…”

“That’s why I know I’ll be okay. You love me too much to kill me. I trust you, Vergil.”

“I don’t.”

“Then trust me.”

He kissed his brother this time, plunging in to capture his lips and tongue before Vergil could protest or resist. Dante felt the exact moment soft lips became scales, shuddering as the kiss traveled down his neck to his pulse. He braced himself for the bite, hissing quietly in pain as skin tore and warmth flooded into Vergil’s waiting mouth. No matter how much Vergil drank, no matter how hard his claws raked across his skin and body, no matter how much his body rang like a bell with pleasure and pain, Dante didn’t let go.


	9. Chapter 9

Dante was light-headed as he woke from his nap. His mouth was dry, feeling as if he’d swallowed cotton or wool in his sleep, he was groggy, and he was nauseated. He tried to sit up, but that just made his head spin more. The hunter collapsed into his pillow with a groan, closing his eyes tight and covering his head with his blanket. His body was pleasantly sore, and he could feel that though he was weak, his wounds had healed while they’d rested.

He heard movement beside him, and the warmth that had been curled up behind him left him. Dante shivered as the blanket was pulled away to let the cold air of the room touch his naked back and neck briefly before Vergil tucked the cloth back in. The younger twin remained in the futon, listening to and following the sounds his mirror made in their room. It felt colder than before, and a musty smell of mold tickled the back of Dante’s throat. Vergil returned minutes later with a clay cup of lukewarm water, setting it just within Dante’s field of vision and reach. 

The younger twin sat up enough to drink, noting the bland flavor of the water. He looked around as he did so, noting that the quality of the room had changed while they had slept. Gone was the glamour of the rustic inn, replaced by the truth. The building was rotting around them, and whatever magic the  _ yuki-onna _ had placed on the inn had been lifted to reveal that it had been long abandoned by humans. Dante shivered, curling up deeper into the blanket and futon, not wanting to think about how old they were. 

His eyes fell on Vergil, watching his brother collect their clothes from the floor. Dante’s clothes were dropped onto his legs unceremoniously, and Vergil dressed. He didn’t have to speak for Dante to sense the urgency around him.

Still, Dante felt compelled to ask as he sat up completely and held the cup of water in both hands. “What’s going on, Verge?”

“The  _ yuki-onna _ is displeased that I’ve been able to control and stop the corruption,” Vergil replied. In the dim lighting of the room, Dante could see the line cutting his brother in half, made all the more clear by the pallor of his human half and the darkness of the demonic. “She is attempting to punish us both by destroying the onsen.” He sighed and shook his head as Dante quickly began to get dressed. “I’m afraid our time is up, dear brother. I must get you back to civilization.”

“Verge, you’re coming with me.”

“We don’t have time to argue. Her power grows with every moment, and we only have so long before daylight runs out.”

Dante scowled as he pulled on his clothes as fast as his shaking hands would allow. “I hate to be the idiot to point out the obvious, but without weapons, we’re both pretty useless.”

“Speak for yourself. I may be without Yamato, but that doesn’t make me useless nor unarmed.” Vergil quirked an eyebrow at his mirror as Dante pulled his coat on, helping him with the myriad of buttons and buckles. “And need I remind you that you bragged about the power and strength of your devil form? Something about tearing something a new something?”

“Are you physically incapable of not being an ass?”

Vergil smirked as he gathered Dante’s collar in his grip, pulling his brother to him in another heated kiss. That confident smile remained as he let go of Dante, the younger twin stumbling back a bit in a delighted daze. With a flick of his wrist, Vergil summoned a katana of ice in his hand. “Come, brother. Let us go hunting.”

The fiery twin grinned as he followed Vergil through the ruins of the onsen, his travel bags left behind in their room. He didn’t need them weighing him down during the battle to come, and if they were successful, Dante would just come back for them. Or at least, that was his plan. As they stepped out into the cold, Dante began to doubt. Snow was still falling, and the wind whipped at them as they left the relative comfort of the abandoned inn. 

When the wind died down and he lowered his arm, the  _ yuki-onna _ and her minions of ogres and  _ oni _ were standing between them and the road. The fallen snow came up to Dante’s shins, but Vergil had such an acute control over his power of ice that he was able to step onto the soft snow without crushing it under his weight. 

“Show-off,” Dante grumbled.

Vergil smirked at him, but his face went serious as he turned his attention to the demons between them and their freedom. “I don’t expect you to be able to strike a woman.”

“Bro, she’s evil. The rules of feminism no longer apply.” 

His twin chuffed quietly. “Then I’ll allow you to choose your targets as you wish.”

Dante stepped forward, feeling fire coursing through his veins. “Vergil, she tortured you. She manipulated you. She brainwashed you. And she ruined my fucking vacation! She is  _ mine _ !” The younger twin roared as he triggered, leaping at her past her guards. The flame of his body cut through the snow like a blade, his claws reared and aiming for her throat.

He didn’t see the battle going on behind him, but he heard the swing of Vergil’s frozen sword ringing through the air as the  _ yuki-onna _ danced away from Dante’s fiery claws. Powerful and ancient that she was, she didn’t expect him to be so willing or able to fight her. He tore through a sleeve of her kimono, always just missing her by a breath. She screamed in fury and fear, hurling gales of snow in his face to blind him. But each snowflake evaporated against his molten and charred scales, fogging the area with steam. Dante swiped blindly into the blizzard, exhausting himself as he caught nothing but air and snow.

Unable to maintain his devil form for long, Dante’s trigger faded away. He convulsed from the sudden cold, collapsing into a shivering, tired puddle in the snow. 

“Vergil!” Dante called out, looking around for his brother.

He could hear the gurgle of dying ogres as Vergil cut through them, but the  _ yuki-onna’s _ blizzard blinded him further. He saw dancing figures of shadow through the white, and reached for them. He saw Vergil briefly through the white, and the look of panic in Vergil’s crimson eyes. They reached together, and he felt Vergil’s fingertips brush his own before the curtain of white separated them once more.

The  _ yuki-onna’s _ screams became laughter. Dante winced as a slice of cold cut at him, tearing through coat and clothes to draw blood. He couldn’t see through the snow; he didn’t know where the attacks were coming from as another sliced across his back, sending spikes of hot pain up his spine. He stumbled forward, and before he could right himself, a heavy weight planted itself on his back and forced him face-first into the snow. He felt hands as cold as death grab his arms and hold them behind his back, preventing him from attempting to free himself.

“Drown, Dante,” the  _ yuki-onna _ purred in his ear as she shoved his face deeper into snow. He struggled under her, flopping to try to knock her off his back. She was as sturdy as a mountain on his back, unmoving no matter how hard he rocked. “Drown in pure white. Suffocate in the cold. Embrace your death, Son of Sparda.”

Snow filled his nose and mouth, and he couldn’t breathe. He struggled to get his arms free and under him, but with every passing heartbeat, he became weaker. White faded to grey and slowly to black. Somewhere he heard a voice that was not his, not Vergil’s, and not hers. 

_ “I have heard your prayer, Dante. And I will grant it.” _


	10. Chapter 10

Dante woke gasping for breath, coughing up snow and water. He rolled over from the driver’s seat to spit it all up onto the leather of the empty passenger seat beside him. He shivered from the cold, agitating his fresh wounds further. And though he could feel the trickling warmth of blood down his sides and back, he could feel his skin slowly patch itself back together as he healed. The hunter groaned and flopped his hand around, feeling the key in the ignition and turning it. After three tries, the affordable rental car roared to life and blew more cold air onto him briefly before it transitioned to warmth.

His head rolled on his shoulders as he leaned back into his seat. As his eyes opened, they fell on the fabric ceiling of his rental car. It wasn’t dented or smashed, and his brows furrowed as he looked around further. He wasn’t buried in snow, and the car wasn’t damaged at all around him. The road was clear beside him where was pulled over, and though it was night, he could clearly see the world beyond the headlights of his car.

Especially the large white, nine-tailed fox sitting delicately ahead of his vehicle.

The creature smiled at him before disappearing in a puff of blue flame. 

“What...the…” Dante shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He was dressed as he was for battle, and he turned in his seat to find his bags in the back seat where he’d packed them before. “Fuck…”

He grumbled and groaned, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms. Had it all been a dream? Had he really just pulled over for a jet-lagged nap? The tears burned in his tightly closed eyes. 

Of  _ course _ it had been a dream. Of  _ course _ it had been too good to be true that he had found his brother, his Vergil so  _ easily _ . He didn’t have the days with his brother. He didn’t have the afternoon of bloody passion, pleasure, and pain. He didn’t even have the five minutes he wanted in the first place, to tell him how much he loved and needed Vergil in his life. None of that had happened. Not even that first sweet kiss in years in the hot springs.

He cried quietly as he drove, letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks as he followed his GPS through the mountains and valleys, the fields and forests of Hokkaido. His destination was a dead end, just a spot on the map without a landmark or point of interest. 

Dante’s cheeks were swollen and his nose was red by the time he got back to Hakodate, and in the modern comfort of the nearest hotel room, he called Trish and asked her to book him on a flight home. She didn’t ask him to explain why he’d given up so soon; either the demon heard the pain in his voice or was saving her gloating for when he got back to the shop. Whatever her reasoning, he was glad that she didn’t make him say it. 

That he’d be coming home alone.

He didn’t sleep well in the hotel room, and after four hours of restless tossing and turning and failed napping, Dante gave up trying. The hunter packed his things and checked out early in the morning, arriving at the airport with hours to spare before his flight back to the states. Dante went through the customs, through security, through the labyrinth of voices and signs in a zoned-out daze and flopped on the carpeted floor of his gate as he had what felt like a lifetime ago. He should eat breakfast, he should get something to drink, but at that moment, all Dante wanted was his brother.

_ “I have heard your prayer, Dante. And I will grant it.” _

His brows furrowed at the fuzzy memory. What had that meant? His wounds had felt real, but if it was all a dream, why did he feel as sore as he did? How much time had he lost? Dante checked his phone, but his mind was so blurry he couldn’t even remember what day it was when he landed in Japan in the first place. Grumbling curses in English, Japanese, and even Latin for the fun of it, Dante picked himself up off the floor and waded through the crowd towards a food court.

And that was when he saw it.

A spot of white amongst the sea of dark hair.

His heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly forgot why he was even up and moving again. Seeing him standing there, under the sprig of mistletoe hanging for decoration, Dante thought he was going to die. Or that he had and this airport was his strange version of heaven or limbo.

Vergil turned to face him moments before Dante tackled him, the elder twin bracing himself to keep from falling over from Dante’s weight. They clung to each other so tightly that Dante thought he was going to fuse into his brother and emerge as a new being, a new whole. 

He didn’t care that they were kissing in public, that they were in a crowded airport surrounded by confused tourists and travelers. 

He had his brother back.

/The End


End file.
